


time may change me (but i cant trace time)

by twentyeightt



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Best Friends to Lovers, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Happy Ending, Implied Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, its only weed dw about it, sander and robbe dont know how to process their emotions CHECK, they're kids!! for the first chapter or two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyeightt/pseuds/twentyeightt
Summary: Sander and Robbe have always had each other, through the best and through the worst of times. Figuring things out makes adolescence difficult for the majority of people, but for Robbe its proving to be one of the hardest thing's he's ever been faced with. And that's an issue when the person you've confided your deepest, darkest secrets in since before you can even remember, is the reason you can't wrap your head around yourself.Or: the one where Robbe and Sander are best friends since the age of six and seven.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 32
Kudos: 161





	1. Six Makes A Change

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so i'm back with something new. i'm actually quite nervous to publish this, as it's something very different to what i usually go for. what i usually go for? 2k words of angst in a oneshot, or 500 words of character exploration. multi-chaptered, fluff based, fics have never been my thing...but this idea has a special place in my heart. 
> 
> somethings you should know: each chapter takes place at a different stage/age of robbe and sander's life. sander is only one year older than robbe. im also bad at writing kids, but practice makes perfect i guess. any crit would be appreciated. feel free to point out missed spelling or grammatical errors.
> 
> much love, enjoy <3  
> follow me on twit @l_lallemant

Summer wasn't like it was in the cartoons, Robbe was finally deciding. The TV lied about the adventures that came at the start of summer, the constant fast-paced murmur of fun and discovery. Summer was a lot more about being sweaty and waiting around for actual fun stuff to happen. Like he was in that moment. Six year old Robbe Ijzermans was sat on his house's front step, being bitter and waiting for the world to fall into place. Just like he had been all week. The Summer Holiday's were definitely not what they had been cracked up to be, Robbe had left the house twice to go grocery shopping with his mum and that had been the most interesting thing to happen to him since his last day of school. That short trip and twenty minutes spent in awe down the toy aisle had been the highlight of his summer so far, alongside the ice cream he got on the way back home, but it had melted. So (technically) that didn't count as fun. Coming to terms with the fact that life was just like normal, except that Robbe didn't have to sit listening to Miss Visser talk about phonetics for three hours a day and sunburn was now a thing apparently, was difficult. 

Missing school surprised him the most. Because at least within the ranks of a stuffy classroom he had his friends. Right then he had no one. Except maybe the birds that were watching him from the strings of the power-lines, the ones the Robbe could only squint at because of the harsh sun. Even they weren't even very entertaining. All they did was poop and caw.

Robbe blamed his mum for his predicament of course. And he knew his dad wouldn't like him for saying that, but it was ultimately her fault. And no amount of telling off could stop Robbe from thinking that. His dad can't read his thoughts. 

The thing was, he didn't understand why he had to play outside whilst his mother made dinner, he wasn't even getting in the way- well maybe he was a little bit, but it's not his fault his toy car only slid well on the kitchen tiles. In Robbe's opinion she was being over-dramatic when she'd huffed and puffed at him, with her hands on her hips and that little annoyed smile pressing at her lips. Before telling him to take his game outside, she'd warned him not to come back until she said so. Protesting wasn't going to change anything- Robbe grasped that as his mum had turned him towards the door, sweetly mumbling how he should 'go say hi to the neighbour's'. 

Saying 'hi' to the neighbour's was a stupid idea. They were strangers, and approaching strangers was basically like saying to a kidnapper 'hey come kill me'. Robbe's school had taught him that. He'd argued that to his mum the day the new neighbour's started to move in. 'Go say hi!' was being thrown his way every other minute as he watched box after box being unloaded from a big white truck. She didn't understand his point though, she just thought Robbe was scared of the neighbour's dog. It was a huge dog, in his defence. All slobbery and loud, with it's barks and howls. 

With his head in his hands, and his elbows on his knees, still sticky from the sunscreen his mum has lathered on the back of his neck whilst messily ushering him out of the door, Robbe stewed in his boredom, utterly exhausted at the predicament he faced. He had half an hour to kill, and half an hour was too much time to sit and poke at the tarmac with the toe of his sneakers. For all he knew, Robbe could march to Paris in half an hour. It was too long, and to make matters worse he had yet another issue. The best of his toys were in the back garden, behind the shed, and he couldn't pry open the fence wide enough to slip them through. So he truly was stuck, on the front step, cooking in the sun like a turkey for a whole half an hour with not a morsel of entertainment. Life just wasn't easy, this was one of the first times Robbe would realise that fact.

But, a six year old is an incredibly selfish thing. Even Robbe, who got stickers frequently for his kindness and 'sharing skills'. Because, he didn't think for a second that he might not be the only one with time to kill and a mother to be bitter at. No, he was too busy kicking the grit and stressing about how many cartoons he was would miss (he thought about ten thousand, because he was the most dramatic child to ever exist). So not noticing the other boy across the street at first, the one who was also sat on his own doorstep, quietly watching Robbe and building up the courage to march over, was excusable. Robbe was so wrapped up in his own crisis that didn't even notice the sound of little legs crossing over the street, walking quickly, laced with anxiety and a slight shyness. In fact, Robbe was so engrossed in self pity that the neighbour's boy had to cough to get his attention, not even the feeling of his shadow casting over Robbe could pull the other boys eyes upwards. 

'Other kids aren't dangerous' was one of Robbe's two reasons for not screeching at the stranger hovering in front of him. The other was that the boy looked incredibly unsure as to why he was even standing on his neighbour's driveway, like he'd come to do something and forgotten what it was upon arrival. A beat of silence passed between the pair, filled with only the sound of Robbe kicking grit and looking up from his perch with a slightly questioning expression. Awkwardness hadn't been invented in his head yet, but weirdness had, and before the neighbour's son had even spoken Robbe had come to the conclusion that he was indeed a little bit strange. It was summer and this kid was wearing a black hoodie, with cargo shorts, paired with socks and sandals. His hair was similar in colour to Robbe's, maybe a little bit more on the caramel side, but was so windswept that it looked a tiny bit like a hay bale. It took Robbe a moment to figure out if he was older or younger than him, because something about his face just looked aged, even if he couldn't be more than a year older than Robbe himself. Dishevelled was too big of a word to know, but that's what the neighbour's boy was. 

''You look sad.'' The boy muttered, shrugging slightly at Robbe, cocking his head to cast a strand of fallen hair from his eyes. Scrunching his nose, Robbe merely huffed in response, squinting through the sun to look up at the other kid.

''I'm not, though.''

''But you look it.'' The neighbour's kid definitely was weird, Robbed decided. It was an easy decision to make, but it wasn't one that stopped his curiosity. The two looked at one another for a long second until the neighbour spoke again, hands deep in his hoodies pocket ''I'm Sander, by the way. My mum told me to say hi to you because I was bored.''  
  
''I'm Robbe'' Robbe uttered in response, internally denying his sudden sympathy ''My mum told me to go say hi to you because she's making dinner.''  
Sander nodded slowly, then pointed at the small space next to Robbe on the front step, shooting his new acquaintance a questioning look. It took Robbe's brain a painfully long second to realise what he was gesturing, and it almost felt rude to say no after that, so he shuffled along the brash concrete, making room for Sander with no word of complaint. 

''Is that why you're sad then?'' Sander queried, glancing nonchalantly at Robbe, his chin resting on the palm oh his hand, elbow to knee. Robbe didn't understand what he meant, and Sander caught onto that after what felt like the millionth long pause of their stunted conversation. So, he elaborated, a hint of, what Robbe thought was, sadness lacing his words ''Because you had to say hi to me.''

Robbe turned his head to regard Sander, knitting his brow whilst making an attempt to figure out if he was actually upset at that idea. He wasn't, obviously. There was a mischievous glint behind Sander's grey-green eyes as he took in Robbe's sun burnt scowl - it was smile so bright that Robbe couldn't help but shake his head and beam back. 

''No, of course not.''

''So why are you sad then?'' Sander played with the strings of his stupid black hoodie, and Robbe watched him for a moment, all whilst he considered telling the truth or not. He took a second, eyeing the other boy to gauge his reaction, fearing his reaction to such a childish reasoning.

''Rugrats is on and I can't watch it because my mum won't let me back in the house...'' He said it with a hint of embarrassment, fast and all coming out in one breath, feeling suddenly stupid in the presence of Sander, who was probably old enough to not care about cartoons. They stayed quiet for a moment as Sander though over the facts. After another silent beat, Robbe hesitantly glanced over to see the other boy pulling a face, his nose scrunched up with his lips pressed into a tight line- if Robbe hadn't been so unsure of the neighbour's boy he would've laughed. Sander looked dumb.

''That's actually a pretty good reason to be sad...'' He concluded, nodding enthusiastically in agreement with the same look of displeasure stuck to his face, Robbe felt relieved he didn't laugh at him for being such a kid...like his dad did sometimes ''Your mum sounds pretty suck-y for doing that, though.''  
  
Sander started fiddling with his hoodie strings again, still propping his head up with one hand, all whilst craning his gaze in Robbe's direction. The confidence he'd began to exude ever since he'd sat down on the step and started just...talking, was something Robbe had yet to experience. Kids his age never spoke to Robbe like Sander did, they were normally shy and hated speaking to people they didn't know- much like Robbe himself. And that was so intriguing to six-year old Robbe Ijzermans, and wouldn't stop being intriguing for a very long time. So, when Sander said, like it was no big deal: ''My mum actually let's me go back inside our house when she's busy. Sooooo...We could watch Rugrats at my house, maybe?'' Robbe found it pretty hard to say no for a second. He had to stop himself.

Throwing caution to the wind was something he considered for a fleeting second, as Sander suddenly got up, pointing across the street all whilst babbling some form of reassurance. But, Robbe knew better. His school didn't do a 'stranger danger' campaign for nothing, after all. 

''I'm not really supposed to go anywhere with strangers...'' Robbe still didn't count kids as a danger, but a wave of uncertainty had unexpectedly hit him at the prospect of following someone as brash and bubbly as Sander into something completely unknown. Sander's blindness to the befriending of newcomers made Robbe want to give him a lecture, even though the other was probably aware of the severe lack of six year old serial killers. Robbe's ridiculous fear was further discredited by the scoff Sander produced, shoving his hands into his short's pockets and teetering backwards on his sandal's heels. 

''I'm not a stranger though'' He almost giggled the sentence, staring at Robbe incredulously, his face only faltered slightly when the other boys expression of apprehension went unchanged. Sighing, as if he was over Robbe's unwillingness to disappear with his weird new neighbour, Sander thrust his hand in Robbe's face. Wiggling his short finger's, Sander elaborated as Robbe raised his eyebrows, utterly taken off-guard. ''Shake my hand.''

''Why?'' Robbe saw his dad shake hands with the men from his work all the time, all strict and adult; everything Sander was not. Impatiently, Sander shrugged, still boyishly teetering on the balls of his feet, before he took a second to think about his reasoning. Robbe's eyes hurt from squinting up at him, the sun harsh behind Sander's silhouette. 

''Because after you shake hands with someone they're not a stranger anymore'' Robbe knew he had a point.

''Really?'' Sander only nodded confidently, pushing his exchanged hand forward further, nodding at it with that toothy grin. 

''Really. Then we're not stranger's, we're friends.'' The idea of being friends with Sander, was one that Robbe took a liking to immediately. He was funny, but weird. And in that moment, weird made Robbe exceedingly curious. So, after rising from his perch on the front step and brushing the grit from the back of his shorts, six-year old Robbe Ijzermans shook Sander's hand. Hard. Hard enough to make them both dissolve into giggles.

''Friends, then?'' Robbe questioned, just to make sure Sander wasn't leading him on. Sander responded by nodding, squeezing Robbe's hand tighter and giving one last arm-arching shake.

''Friends.''

''Lets go...''


	2. Ten Is For Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer comes around again at ten and eleven, and Robbe is starting to wonder if he really does have a crush on that girl in his class, despite something feeling massively OFF.
> 
> Featuring: Fifa, sore losers and the shambles that are Robbe's parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys...look I updated and didn't leave this fic with one chapter and no coherent story line. Just a quick PSA for the end of this chapter: there's an implication of Robbe's mum having an MI and his ten year old brain not understanding it, as well as a mention of an argument.
> 
> BTW: this part of this fic is based of a very real conversation I had with my friend at the age of 10, before I realised I was gay and a wee bit in love with her. EET IZ WHAT IT EEEZ. 
> 
> Thanks for the support on the first chapter, enjoy <3

Robbe didn't exactly know the science behind global warming, but in the thick of Antwerp's heat wave he had a reason to believe in it. All the window's in his house had been thrown open as soon as him and Sander had rushed inside, hiding from the sun. After hours of wandering aimlessly around their neighbourhood, they were sick of the beating heat, thirsty and ready to laze about doing absolutely nothing. It had been a great day so far, both of them in the best of moods, joking and laughing in the way they usually did, but with an extra layer of carefree glee on top of the normality. In fact, Robbe's cheeks still hurt from laughing an hour after they had sprawled onto his couch, ready to pig out until Sander had to leave. The entire day, Sander wouldn't stop making absolutely stupid jokes, the one's verging on crude that made the other boy lose it every single time. Even as Robbe turned his Xbox on, he was giggling, telling Sander to 'shut up' in fear of his mum overhearing (even if he knew she wouldn't). It took them both a couple of long minutes to calm down enough to figure out what game they were going to play. It was Fifa of course, Sander would usually complain, but he knew Robbe was too tired to move from the couch to change the disks over.

Robbe's shirt was sticking to him and the room was so stuffy despite the light breeze that streamed in from the open windows. The water he'd got for the both of them had turned warm in minutes of coming out of the tap, unpleasant and nowhere near as refreshing as they'd hoped it would've been. His hair clung to his forehead and his neck- Robbe's mum was right, maybe it was way too long for such hot weather. For a second he thought back to Sander a couple of years previous, in his big hoodies under the sun. Robbe didn't know how he'd dressed like that on the warmest of days without passing out. Honestly, Robbe never grew to understand why he did wear such baggy clothes. And it was too late to ask. Sander had changed his 'fashion sense' now, donning short sleeves and 3/4 cargo pants, decked out in a t-shirt Robbe was pretty sure he'd seen Sander's older brother, Ross,wear. 

''You keep on missing! What are you even doing, Robbe?'' Sander teased, gesturing wildly at the footballers on screen, laughing as he scored yet another goal. No matter how much Sander complained about Fifa it didn't stop him from beating Robbe nearly every time they played. 

''I wasn't paying attention! Oh my god, stop, at least give me a chance to pass-'' Being younger than Sander sometimes made Robbe feel like he was at a disadvantage, it wasn't a big gap (only a year and two months between them), but Sander always seemed so much more sharper than his friend. The infinite amount of wisdom an eleven year old had compared to a ten year old seemed massive to Robbe. Sander scored again, and Robbe was pretty much done. 

''You're not even playing properly now!'' Sander grinned, knowing that he'd won quickly enough to annoy Robbe ''Don't be a sore loser, Ijzermans...''

''I'm not a sore loser, I just wasn't paying attention! Re-match, come on'' Robbe sat forward, in a slow effort to make himself pay more attention, hoping that he might suddenly get better at the game- despite the fact he didn't really know what he was doing. He could feel Sander's amusement even if he wasn't facing him, that toothy grin and the slightly patronising eyebrow raise he always shot Robbe before he made a fool of himself. Sander scored nearly as soon as the match started. There was a short silence as Robbe dropped his controller in mock disbelief, before Sander burst into a fit of laughter, falling backwards on the couch and Robbe shook his head.

"HOW? That's so unfair...You suck!" He had to shout over Sander's laughter, gesturing wildly at the TV screen. Robbe was laughing too now, and his was tummy hurting from the way he doubled over, hand clutching his chest. Every single time there was a dip in the severity of their giggles, Sander would look at Robbe and the tears in their eyes would make them lose it all over again. In moments like those, Robbe realised how Sander was the only one who could make him laugh like that, all incoherent noises and snorts, loud and boldly uncontrolled. Jens and the other kids at school were funny, but they didn't know how to make Robbe's eyes water, and his dimples pop, like Sander did.  
Through spluttered giggles, after a couple of painfully joyous minutes Sander managed to say "That was embarrassing...Seriously" Robbe merely stuck his tongue out at him in response, still flushed in the face and warmer than he had been all day. Sander, huffing, put his controller to the side before glancing at Robbe sideways- clearly mischievous. "What would your Noor think of that?"

Robbe's grin faltered for the first time since that morning. And he didn't know why, exactly. That was the issue he'd been having recently.

Noor was a girl in Robbe's class. A friend, as well as a girl. She sat opposite him on their group's table, and the pair of them got along so easily. Like they'd known one another since kindergarten. You see, Noor played video games too, her brother had a PS4, and her and Robbe would sit and talk about GTA when they were supposed to be doing classwork- much to Miss Visser's dismay. Surprisingly, to Robbe's dense 10 year old brain, she was very good at them, knowing tricks that he hadn't gotten around to learning yet and being happy to help him. Fifa wasn't her thing though...He wondered for a second if that was why he was so bad at it.She'd smile at a remark like that. Noor smiled a lot, and she wouldn't hesitate to laugh at Robbe's stupid jokes either- the one's that he'd definitely stole from Sander. She make Robbe laugh a lot too, it only took him a couple of weeks to realise that being friends with her was almost as fun as being friends with Jens. The only downside to talking to Noor was the whispers that followed their every interaction. That was the issue Robbe had had recently. A boy and a girl talking, laughing, joking, smiling together meant one thing to everyone- one of them had a crush. And Robbe didn't exactly know what one of those was. 

He'd made the mistake of asking Jens, of course. Which didn't help. Whilst Jens was one of the smartest in their class, he'd never really had a way with words. The pair had been sitting on one of the playgrounds walls during recess when Robbe had blurted out ''How do you know if you have a crush on someone?''

Jens had stopped eating his crackers to crane his neck in Robbe's direction, quirking an eyebrow whilst brushing a long strand of black hair out of his eyes. He shrugged at first, slowly chewing as he paused to think. After such suspense Robbe was expecting a groundbreaking answer, one that would provide clarity and help him decide if he actually did have a 'crush' on Noor. But instead, all he got was something mildly underwhelming, mumbled through a mouthful of cracker dust.

''You...like them a lot. And they make you feel nice....And you think they're, like, pretty, i guess?''

''That's it?'' Robbe had shaken his head in dismay, even more confused than he had been before he'd asked. The thing was, Robbe could apply that logic to a lot of people. Sander made him feel nice, he would always compliment Robbe when he did something good, laugh when subjected to his poor attempts at original humour and listen when he told long, winding stories. Robbe liked Sander a lot. Objectively he was pretty too, all of the girls in Sander's year said so. They'd stand by the football pitches sidelines, crooning, whenever he played; all gushing and grinning. Robbe thought that was gross, for some reason. The idea of girls blushing over Sander was definitely gross. The idea of someone having a 'crush' on Sander was even more repulsive to Robbe.

''Yeah, that's it Robbe...'' Jens dusted the cracker crumbs from his pants, crumpling the packet in his grubby hands before shoving it in one of his trouser's pockets. He took a second, as Robbe ran over that shabby definition one hundred times in his head, before curiously asking ''Are you asking because of Noor?''

Robbe didn't want to answer that, so he didn't say anything at all. His mum told him silence was always an acceptable answer. But what he didn't know was the numerous ways silence could be interpreted. Because, in response to his friends silence, Jens made the answer up for himself. The other's face broke out in a blossoming grin, all Cheshire-cat like, as he hopped down from the wall.  
  
''You have a crush on her?'' He said the words too loudly for Robbe's liking, bouncing like some sort of excitable puppy, just ecstatic enough to draw attention from the younger kids hovering around them. A pit grew in Robbe's stomach of the idea of that rumour spreading...Of Noor hearing. Of Noor wanting to be his girlfriend.

''No!'' Robbe's vehement defence just egged on his 'best' friend, though. Jens was laughing too loudly, insisting that he thought so, and profoundly declaring that Robbe was 'in love'. It was embarrassing, Robbe could still feel the heat his cheeks had filled with, as he sat on the couch staring at Sander.

''Earth to Robbe...Ground control wants a report'' Sander cupped a hand over his own mouth, mimicking the sound of a walkie-talkie as he shuffled up the couch in order to stab at Robbe's arm with his finger. He shook his head in response, letting out a strained laugh as the slight dread in his stomach lifted- Sander's idiocy never failed to make him feel better. But after his and Jens' conversation, that fact made Robbe scrunch up his face.

''How did you find out about that? Did Jens tell you?'' He mused, trying to act cool in the face of such an awkward subject. Sander could read him like a book though, and he only smiled wider at Robbe's mannerisms, folding his arms to exaggerate his smugness. 

''Yeah, but Noor's friends are LOUD so...It wasn't like that was the only way I could've found out'' Sander was undeniably proud of himself and his nonexistent detective skills, he was looking at Robbe expectantly, like he was supposed to say something. Robbe stared at him in confusion, mouthing a small 'what?' before Sander rolled his eyes, still positively beaming. Of course Sander was thriving off this stupid situation. Crushes and girls were his thing,after all, despite how much he'd protest that exact fact. Sander had gotten his first girlfriend a couple of weeks after him and Robbe had met. To no ones surprise, her and Robbe hated each other. She was mean, to be fair to Robbe, always calling him 'little' and a baby. Sander had boldly broken up with her in the middle of recess after she tripped Robbe for 'stealing' Sander... Whatever that had meant. ''Are you not going to tell me anything about her then?''

''There's nothing to tell you about'' 

''But you have a crush on her...'' Sander protested ''I told you everything when I had a crush on Engel last month'' Robbe was starting to realise how many of Sander's crushes he didn't like. Engel was annoying, and loud, and too girly. All of them were too girly, too obsessed with makeup and clothes, stuff that Robbe didn't care about. But, Noor wasn't. In reality, Robbe liked Noor. He just didn't know if what he felt qualified as a crush. 

''I don't know if i have a crush on her'' He hesitated before continuing, looking down at the controller he still gripped in his hands, fingers incessantly fiddling with the buttons to ease his nerves ''She makes me happy and I think she's pretty, but I don't know if that's what a crush is...Like-' Robbe paused for a moment, pursing his lips as he thought. He swallowed quickly before mumbling ''I don't want her to be my girlfriend, girlfriends are kind of gross.''

Finally, he managed to look at Sander, suddenly grateful for the influx of warm weather and sunburn due to the heat radiating off of his cheeks. Speaking about girls was new territory for the two...Robbe was spectacularly uncomfortable. He was expecting Sander to still be beaming, delighted at his friends discomfort and embarrassment when speaking about his speculated crush like Jens usually did. But instead, he looked oddly serious- as serious as an 11 year old could get.

''Why do you think girlfriends are gross?'' It was a sincere question, asked out genuine curiosity, but Robbe still couldn't think of an answer that sounded logical.

''They just do. They, like, take up all of your time. A-and speak about girl stuff. And...'' Robbe's words all came out in one breath, frustrated and confused ''I wouldn't be able to spend as much time with you, you know?''

Sander nodded in agreement, understanding as always. Robbe liked when he did that, always seeming to get what he was saying without ever really trying. It helped Robbe be able to breathe easier, the initial panic at his teasing subsiding after one loaded look. Being unable to hang out with Sander because of some girl was something Robbe never ever wanted, he decided that then in that moment. And it looked like Sander had come to his own conclusion, his mouth open to say something that he'd never get to say. Because, all of a sudden, there was an ungodly barrage of shouting and screaming coming from above them, the ceiling shaking with the weight of retreating footsteps. The worst part was that Robbe didn't even jump, expecting his parents to start a war sooner or later- it was that time of the day after all.

The fighting had been getting worse recently. His mum was tired, constantly, always snappy and lazy. Picking at conversations until they bled, like a scab, into some sort of row. Robbe had been living on takeout for the past two weeks, with his mother unable to cook and his dad working night shifts. A month ago, that would've been an absolute dream, but lately he found himself missing the home-cooked food she'd made before thing's went downhill. During the day (If Sander wasn't there) Robbe found himself to be lonely more than bored, with both of his parents sleeping- his dad recovering from a night working in warehouses and his mother weighted like a stone, unable to do anything for herself. To be truthful, Robbe was angry at her. Mostly because he didn't understand what was going on, and why she liked to shout at his dad so much. Robbe's father had always been antagonistic, but these days it seemed that whenever they were in the same room a thick band of tension weighed over the entire family. It was exhausting. 

The sound of, what Robbe presumed was the vase on his parent's rooms dresser, smashing was what brought him back to reality- the previous minutes of shame forgotten. Sander looked horrified, quietly scared, like he knew he wasn't supposed to have such an outward reaction. After a lull in the yelling, only whisper-shouting echoing down into the living room, he looked over to Robbe with those big, sympathetic eyes. The ones that Robbe didn't know how to feel about, yet. 

''Should I go?'' He questioned, quieter than before. Robbe merely pressed his lips together in a grimace, before forcing a nod. He really didn't want him to leave, but Robbe's dad would kill him if he found out their neighbour's son had overheard a domestic. Sander began to get up, reaching for his shoes (which were strewn haphazardly near the TV) as the shouting started up once again. From what Robbe could make out it was something about money, loans, and his mother's job. She'd stopped going to work, and despite his ignorance to the adult world, Robbe knew that was a bad thing. He dug his fingers into the sofa's material as the room suddenly felt a lot stuffier, like the windows were locked shut and it was two degrees hotter than it already was. 

He could tell Sander didn't know what to say, as he slipped on his shoes. Robbe didn't blame him, his family were probably too perfect to deal with stuff like this. Envy wasn't a thing Robbe was conscious of yet, but it lingered over their every interaction, when it came to family. Sander's mum was the type of woman to bake a cake after every single one of her kid's achievements, be that minor or major, the type to cut up carrots and cucumber in cute ways to make her children's lunches interesting. Robbe's was the type to sleep until 4pm and only come downstairs for water and takeout. And for whatever reason, his dad expected Robbe not to even slightly resent her.

''I-I'll speak to you tomorrow, Robbe?'' Sander was hovering by the door, looking unbelievably awkward in front of Robbe for the first time in years. 

''Yeah''

''We'll go for a walk down near the high street? My mum will give us money for ice-cream if I ask nicely, hopefully'' He said it quickly, painfully aware that the noise coming from upstairs was escalating. But, being one of the kindest humans alive, Sander was still intent on letting Robbe have something to look forward to. The other grinned in response, letting his friend know that that was cool with him, before Sander gave a short wave and walked out of the door.

Robbe heard him leave after a couple of long seconds, the latch on his front door clicking shut. Whenever Sander left Robbe's house it sucked, but then it hurt in a different type of way. Because then it was just him and the pair of dysfunctional adults fighting upstairs, still screaming and thudding and shouting like they didn't have a child, meek and reserved, sitting downstairs. Robbe wondered for a second if they even cared about him, as something else vaguely porcelain smashed on the stairway. If they even considered him when they had their shouting matches. Picking up his game controller, Robbe loaded up a solo match on Fifa, feeling warmly empty. 

Even if his parents didn't really care about him, even if no one else that knew him cared about Robbe Ijzermans, he always knew he'd have one person to fall back on. And that was the kid he was going to get ice cream on the high street with the next day. Not the girl he was supposed to have a crush on.


	3. Fourteen Fucks You Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At 14, Robbe pretends like he doesn't miss him. Like he's happy with the friends he has. It's not like he can help the pang in his chest whenever Sander locks eyes with him across the hall. Summer had come and gone, school is in full swing and Robbe's life is about to turn upside down. But, can even the most painful events have an upside? 
> 
> Or: the one with emotional trauma, spray paint and Sander being dramatic
> 
> Read notes for possible triggers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So this took longer than I thought it would. Like I've said before, multi-chaptered fics have never really been my thing. Therefore writing like 5k words was a pretty hefty task. Just going to say now that this chapter could be triggering? Not massively, but it has description of possible domestic abuse, an uneducated perspective on mental illness and just a general bit of sadness. So, don't read this yet if you're looking for a pick-me-up- even if it does get kind of cute towards the end! I apologise if this isn't the best, I got a bit burnt out towards the end and just decided to post this for shits and giggles.
> 
> Enjoy! Feedback and crit would be much appreciated.  
> Follow me on Twitter: @s_driesen <3

Bro, you don't fucking watch her?'' Robbe was tired of hearing Moyo's voice by that point in the day ''YOU DON'T? Holy shit, I'm about to change your life....'' 

Truthfully, he'd stopped properly paying attention to his friends conversation as soon as they'd gotten out of the school gates. It was just easier for Robbe to withdraw back into his own head as Aaron started boasting that he'd figured out a way to load PornHub on his families (shared) iPad without his brother finding out. At first it had made him laugh, the pure glee on his friends face, but then Jens had started talking about the girl he'd watched the night before, and all at once Robbe's mood had turned sour. But, Moyo? He was always the one to take thing's a step too far by pulling out his phone, links at the ready, prepared to 'enlighten' the others on all things tits, ass and girls. Like he was some sort of unholy sex wizard. To Robbe it had gotten old really fast, he didn't understand the appeal, all the nudity only made him uncomfortable...That stuff was the opposite of exciting. But, so was his life. He pulled up his hood further, his earphones in his ears playing some shitty rap- the kind that he'd only listened to so he could fit in with the boys. Robbe told himself he liked it.

Just like the rap music, the appeal of coming back to school had faded super quickly. Within the first two months at least. And now it was nearly spring and Robbe just couldn't wait to get away from his shit-show of a social life. Moyo was still talking, Robbe heard him over the sound of his music, turning the screen of his phone to Aaron- who looked ultimately in awe of the pair of boobs open in his browser. Robbe picked up his pace. Becoming friends with a 'cool kid' (Jens' words NOT his) like Moyo at the start of the year would've made Robbe burst with excitement, but now? He was regretting not staying on his own. Or at least hanging with other people. People like Sander. Robbe wasn't going to lie- he'd been thinking about Sander a lot over the past couple of weeks. They'd stopped talking over the previous summer, never having a chance to see each other with Sander leaving without a word, a week into the holidays. He remained out of town, for an undisclosed reason, the entire six weeks they had off from school. No calls, no texts. Nothing. And then he'd shown up like nothing had happened within the first week of term. Robbe pretended like it didn't hurt him, of course, but he couldn't help his mind lighting up whenever they locked eyes in the schools hallways. There was always something slightly painful about how Sander would never say 'hi' like he used to. It ached seeing him laughing with his older, taller, scarily popular friends- the ones that Robbe would've never though Sander would've ended up hanging out with. The types who smoked and drank just for the hell of it.

"Robbe....ROBBE? Are you in there, mate?'' Moyo's grin was inappropriately big for a kid who'd had two science exams that day. Reluctantly, Robbe took his earphones out, lips pressed into a thin line, and began mentally preparing to see a picture of an ass he'd probably have to pretend to find hot ''Nappi? Valentina? Opinions?''

Jens was looking at Robbe now, slowing down to walk beside him, and suddenly it felt like he had to lie. Honestly, he had no clue who Nappi was, not even a slight inclination. And that felt kind of horrible momentarily, for a reason that Robbe didn't exactly understand.

''Yeah, she's like really fit...'' Robbe wasn't a good actor. So when Moyo's grin faltered momentarily, replaced with a flash of confusion, Robbe's gut twisted in embarrassment. He racked his brain, trying to think for a second, following up with ''She's the one with the blonde hair and tattoos right?'' 

Aaron and Moyo looked at each other for a drawn out second, before cracking up in Robbe's face. It was one of those kind of big wheezing, chest-aching, laughs. Moyo had tears in his eyes, and Aaron was patting him on the back as he hunched over. Jens even smirked slightly, clearly too nice to start laughing himself. Honestly, Robbe was so used to that sort of reaction that it didn't hurt anymore. His embarrassment was forcefully subdued, because stuff like that occured often enough for Robbe to know that they'd only laugh more if his ears started tinging red. Deep down he knew he should be angry, but he was too exhausted to act on it. Robbe was too scared of ending up alone to tell Moyo and his stupid grin and his stupid phone and his stupid music to just...fuck off.

He would've probably found it harder to repress his anger if it wasn't for the fact that they'd almost reached the bus stop, where Moyo and Aaron would break away from Robbe and Jens. They always waited, hovering under the shelter, until the pairs bus would pull up- the 'broers' just looking for an excuse to mess around before the school day officially ended. Usually, when he wasn't in the mood to endure the other guys,Robbe would make up some bullshit excuse as to why he couldn't wait with them, unfairly using his mother to create an non-existent doctors appointment. But, the sight of light brown hair and a leather jacket that looked way too big for the lanky frame it hung to, made Robbe stop under the tin roof.

Sander had grown over the summer, considerably taller. He looked more like a bean pole than he had before school had broken out. The sun, which had made a fleeting appearance the week prior, had clearly stuck to him too- his hair was tinted lighter, more caramel toned, like it had been when he was younger. Robbed presumed he'd caught sun on the apple's of his cheeks, as they looked flushed. All rosy with a slight patchiness. Maybe they were. Robbe forced himself not to pause on that thought. Instead, forcefully latching onto another thought train. Because, all at once it had become staggeringly obvious why Sander was so popular, so worshipped by those in his year group. He was pretty. Undeniably, pretty.

By then, Moyo had finally stopped laughing, only teasing Robbe slightly before getting distracted by Aaron bringing up some girl who had added him ''BY USERNAME GUYS! BY USERNAME?'' on Snapchat. The sheer loudness of the other boys voice had brought a gaze of attention that made Robbe slightly nervous. Sander was looking at them, alone and smaller-looking without his gaggle of friends, and Robbe was trying so hard not to look back that it hurt. Jens, ever observant and wise, had noticed of course, eyes flitting between the pair with a quirked eyebrow- Robbe pretended not to notice that too. He could already hear the onslaught of questions coming his way. The types of questions he didn't really have any answers to.

Only the sound of tyres hitting grit could make Robbe stop burning holes into the concrete with his eyes and even then he looked up reluctantly. The bus pulled up slowly, Aaron and Moyo stopped talking to dap Jens before the driver stopped at the curb. Moyo made a snide comment about Robbe 'doing his research' before he had to climb on, not even a word of goodbye, whilst Aaron continued talking to him- like a lap dog that pissed itself when it got too excited- about shit that really didn't matter. Robbe was ready to turn on his heels, to quick-walk down the street and into his house so he could play video games and drown out the mess in his head, when someone brushed past him. Sander mumbled an quiet apology, scooting around Robbe to follow Aaron onto the bus, before turning his head to regard the other boy. With a smile on his lips. It was small and brief, a mere quirk of the lips, but Robbe's brain stopped functioning for half a second. He had to remember how to smile back, and probably looked stupid and awkward when he did, by then Sander had turned back around before Robbe's face even relaxed. The hiss of the bus doors closing dropped him back into reality. A reality where a very confused, very suspicious Jens Stoffels was eyeing his best friend with a look that just screamed 'what the fuck was THAT?'. Robbe didn't know, and didn't want to stick around to figure out the answer, so he started walking like nothing weird had even occurred. 

It took Jens approximately two whole minutes to ask.

''Do you two still talk?'' Robbe only shrugged in response, and for a split second Jens actually looked sad for him, like might leave the topic alone. Of course not. Instead, he paused, before saying ''Did you fall out or something? I thought you guys were really close...''

''Yeah, we were, I guess, but he just kind of stopped talking to me. Like, I don't even know why...'' Robbe glanced at Jens as they walked, slowly ambling down the road like they were suddenly all too aware of the brief distance before they'd have to split to walk to their respective houses. Jens still looked confused, and opened his mouth to speak before Robbe cut him off ''He went away over summer, no warning or anything. Didn't even say goodbye. I just went over to his house one day and his mum told me. He just...stopped speaking to me. Like, I'd message him and get left on read. But he'd still like my Instagram posts and stuff...''

''That's just fucking weird.'' Jens said exactly what Robbe had been thinking for the past nine or so months. He shook his head in clear exasperation before continuing with ''But he still seems friendly with you, right? IHave you tried speaking to him recently? Maybe he'll explain now that he's back, could've been some sort of...I don't know....Long vacation?''

Begrudgingly, Robbe shook his head. In his mind, a phone worked two ways and Robbe was far too stubborn to message Sander first. Sander had left him on his own after all. For better people. Like some sort of toy he'd grown bored of when he realised there were other, shinier things to play with. All whilst Robbe had been sucked into a group of assholes who still thought fart jokes were funny. There was an explanation as to why Sander never reached out to him, and for some reason Robbe thought that finding out what it was, would hurt him more. Even though he was achingly curious. Drifting apart from Sander was hard, it made Robbe hyper-aware of how quickly life could change. He'd only just accepted that him and Sander probably didn't counts as friends anymore but the fact that he might still not want to talk made Robbe feel ill- stressed beyond words. It wasn't like he didn't miss his company though.

Everything made him stressed recently. It was like he was standing on a sheet of thin glass, balancing his emotions- waiting for the moment when one of them would fall and shatter the surface. Recently, the glass was cracking. Especially with his mum. Marie wasn't well, she never had been and Robbe had only just realised that. Apparently, it wasn't normal for your mum to sleep for 16 hours some days and just not at all the next. Mums weren't meant to have mood swings so severe they'd give any normal person whiplash. Arguments between parents that ended up with glasses being thrown at the walls were the opposite of what was supposed to happen within a marriage. Robbe always knew his family was different, but the realisation fully hit after he spent a week with Jens' nuclear family. And ever since then the rock in the pit of his stomach started to whisper 'this isn't right' too loudly for Robbe to bear.

"You should text him" Jens brought Robbe back to reality, smiling gently, with a warmth that reached his eyes. The type of smile that Robbe loved a little too much. At that point on the road the paths separated, and Jens gave a short (wordless) salute before peeling away towards his house. Leaving Robbe, alone in the cold with Sander at the forefront of his mind and a lurking sense of self loathing coming back with vengeance. The rain started falling whilst Jens rounded the street corner, his back profile edging out of Robbe's view. Though he didn't feel the biting cold until his coat was sodden through. The quiet patter of the rain, it beat hammering against the concrete, seemed more soothing than home in that moment.  
___

Robbe was making a sandwich when he found out his dad was leaving his mum. 

It was such a normal day. He'd just gotten home from school and his stomach had been rumbling since third period, so when he bee lined for his fridge his hopes were high. School had offered him the same old shit; Aaron talking about tits he was never going to touch, Moyo being loud and rude, Jens being Jens. And Sander. Ignoring him for the most part, except for when he'd send Robbe one of those small smiles when they locked eyes across the atrium. His silences were deafening, Robbe hated lingering on them. When the bread tore after Robbe's heavy handed attempts to spread out the congealed jam, he gave up on neatness and just started eating from the cutting board, not even noticing the slow footsteps coming up behind him. His mother didn't even speak as she slid into the dining room chair. She only silently watched her son eat his poor excuse for a sandwich and dribble crumbs all over the counter-top. The wave of endearment she felt when he wiped his mouth on the back of his jumper's sleeve only stung. She dreaded this conversation. She dreaded what he'd think of her, what he would say. If he would leave. A flush of anxiety seeped into Marie's voice, soft-spoken and calm enough in her numbness, 

"Robbe?"

He jumped of course, craning his neck whilst rapidly chewing. She could already see him creating excuses as to why he was snacking before dinner- time flashing behind his bright eyes. Mouth full of bread, Robbe mumbled a 'what?' before turning himself to face the dining table. He knew something was wrong straight away. Robbe wasn't stupid, he could read his mum like a book. She looked...tired. Tireder than usual, more downbeat and empty than mentally drained. She looked like how he'd been feeling for weeks. Fragile. Her glass was cracking. Marie drew small, timid, circles on the dining table with her finger, face blank but brain whirring, Robbe swore he could hear her think. All at once, the pit in his stomach grew heavier, the anxiety in his chest blossoming as it tore under the weight. Who knew that a few beats of silence could make someone clam up as quickly as Robbe had. Sandwich forgotten, he abandoned the mess on the counter, wiping his hands on his trousers before hesitantly approaching his shell of a mother.

"What's wrong?" He rephrased "What happened?" All of a sudden the house felt off. Like everything was slightly shifted to the left, like the walls were barer and people were watching through the windows. There was one stark emptiness that struck Robbe, after a moment of consideration. The TV wasn't on, there wasn't a coat on the back of the dining room chair he sat in. Robbe's dad wasn't home. He sat across from her then, the room feeling smaller and smaller by the second, like all the doors were bolted shut and it was summer again. Marie inhaled, a wet sounding, gasp-like, sob that bubbled on her lips and made Robbe wince. It's not like he hadn't seen her cry before, but this felt different and new. Because she wasn't upset. Marie was in pain. Strands of long, brown, hair clung to her wet cheeks, and the circles she drew on the table got faster and faster as she tried to say the words. The words that, deep down at the back of his mind, Robbe knew were coming. He'd been expecting them for the past year.

"He's gone. He's left. He took his things with him this morning." 

"What...?" He'd heard what she'd said. 

"Your dad. He's gone. We're getting a divorce, Robbe" 

The glass, he'd been trying not to break, shattered. An almighty crash in his brain, like a fucking explosion that signalled the end of Robbe's own little world. An explosion he'd predicted months ago, but had been putting off preparing for. There weren't words that he could say to reassure his mum as she started wheezing, pushing out short sobs. Ones that sounded like they physically hurt to let out. He could only sit as the world went still, all numb and quiet- the room they sat in, was the only thing in existence for a minuscule moment. But, Marie started speaking again, through the sniffles and tears. Slowly, she reached across the table to take her sons limp hand- painfully grasping his fingers. Robbe couldn't look at her, his eyes burned a hole into the table, unable to move from the coffee ring stained into the wood; where his dad's mug had sat every night before he went to work. 

''It's just us now, but that's okay, isn't it? I'll, I'll get a job, I'll start working and, and we'll be okay, right?'' Marie looked frantic, like Robbe was the parent and her the child, feverishly seeking reassurance from the weak. That question, was one he never answered. Because, frankly it was never going to be okay. The instability that his mother radiated was handled by Robbe's father. He was the one that would coax her to lay in bed when she wouldn't sit down. He was the one who'd clean up the pieces of broken glass and ceramic after an outburst. He was the one who would pick up her prescriptions and force her to take them. He'd do everything. In that moment, Robbe thought he was witnessing the death of his childhood. Selfishly, he wished then that he could leave too. His mothers grip tightened, like she knew he what Robbe was thinking, trembling with a tension that would leave marks. Marie hadn't stopped mumbling for the long few minutes that disappeared in what seemed like seconds. She was praying. Robbe wanted to cry, but no tears came. There was only a burning sensation in his chest, that paralysed his entire body. He felt that, if he moved, he would break into a thousands of tiny pieces onto the floor. As she ducked her head, a bible verse on her lips, Robbe came to a conclusion. That he was going to end up like his Dad. Catering to her every want and need, life revolving around beliefs he didn't care about, just so his mother could keep her shit together. The psychiatrist called Christianity her coping mechanism. It was one of the only things that kept her rooted in reality. But, Robbe knew he hated it from the moment she called him a sinner for growing his hair out a few years prior. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke again, and Robbe's chest clenched with anxiety just when she pleaded "Say a prayer with me. We don't need him. We never have. The only person we need is God..."

He couldn't do it. It felt so wrong, all of a sudden. And he knew exactly why. It made him sick looking his mother in the eyes as she prayed, knowing what he knew about himself, knowing that he resented her for a thing she couldn't change. So, Robbe turned into his dad. Confirming his hypothesis. He left. Bolting up from his seat, the chair legs scraping against the floor making a noise so loud that he felt it in his bones, Robbe twisted his hand from his mother's grip. All of a sudden, his cheeks felt hot, mottled red. Looking back, Robbe thinks that was the moment he started actually crying. That lingering mask of shame was tightening, and he couldn't stop his eyes from growing wet. Marie peered up at him from the table, startled- with eyes as big as saucers, shiny and questioning. Everything was too much, so Robbe did the only thing he could think of and ran. Like father, like son.

Quick-stepping out of the kitchen, he darted up to his room, fumbling on the incline so much that he had to brace himself from slipping by letting his hands brush the carpeted stairs. He shouldered open his bedroom door, without a plan, and grabbed the first jacket he saw- the brown one that he'd been refusing to wear ever since his Dad bought it form him. Fumbling, mind racing with the mantra of 'getoutgetoutgetout', Robbe panicked. Grabbing the cash in his bedside drawer, he shoved no more than twenty euros into his back pocket, feeling the hard outline of his phone alongside it. Only then did he become aware of his mum's yelling, she called his name, the desperation laced into her words made Robbe screw up his face in pain. But, right then, he couldn't be in that house. Sharing walls with the memories of when his family was happy, memories of times when his dad would look at his mum with such love that it made Robbe want to gag. Nothing like that was ever going to happen again. The love had faded and his dad had abandoned ship. Just like he was doing now. Deep down, Robbe knew he should probably hate his dad, for leaving him with his mum, piling onto him a responsibility that no child should have to bare. But he understood why. Robbe knew it wasn't his fault he left. If Marie didn't raise him, if Robbe had the option not to love her, then he'd run for the hills too. 

"Where are you going?" Robbe was by the front door now, remorseful tears hot on his cheeks, as Marie lingered in the kitchen's entryway. She looked so scared, so confused, as Robbe slid on his shoes, frantically tying his laces. 

"Jens'" He lied. In reality he had no idea. Jens' house seemed so far away. 

"W-why?" Marie stammered "Robbe, why are you leaving? Wait, stop, slow down...Please, don't leave me here" 'Me'. That fucking word. It was always 'me, me, me' with Marie. Robbe slammed the door behind him as she said it, cutting her pleads off as he stepped onto the driveway. The door flew open behind him, hinges screaming, as he moved to unlock his bike from his garden's fence-post. Rusting, the lock jammed, he struggled to unlock it whilst Marie yelled for him, heavily sobbing, but not daring to inch closer. She had no shoes on, the gravel was cutting at her feet. So she just stood and wailed, toddler-like, trying to reason, but all Robbe could hear was the shell of a woman begging for something she'd break. After a second of hopelessly pulling on the chain, the bike lock clicked open. Robbe lifted himself onto his bike seat, freeing the wheel of the post. Marie gave one more sharp yell, something about him being 'just like his father', before Robbe pedalled away. Peeling out of his street and onto a tangle of roads, Robbe told himself that he wasn't a bad person for not looking back. Somehow, he didn't believe that lie, no matter how comforting it was. 

It was on the cusp of evening when he stopped cycling. The sun set had taken all of the days minimal warmth with it. A breeze passed through the air, it stung Robbe's heated cheeks as he rode onwards- functioning on autopilot, legs pumping with a newfound adrenaline. Rounding a corner, he forced himself to stop, feeling safe and far enough from his mother's wails to finally breathe out. After a second of dog-like panting, he fumbled in his jean pocket for his phone, his shaking hands unlocking and tapping into the contacts menu, with a hint of hesitation. The need to not be alone was undeniably strong, but Robbe didn't know what company he wanted. Eyes hovering on Jens' name, he stared at the number like it was going to call itself. But, something inside of Robbe told him that Jens would never understand the situation he'd found himself in. Jens would probably let him stay the night and then ask his mother to prompt Robbe to leave in the morning. After all his nuclear family, with his mum who cooked dinner every night for a dad that called Jens' 'buddy' and did shit like teach him how to shave, blanketed Jens in the safety of naivety. It would be like talking to a billionaire about poverty- utterly futile, with area for misunderstanding that, in the mindset he was in, would send Robbe over the edge. So, panicking more, he scrolled further down his recent calls. Moyo and Aaron would be fucking useless, stereotypical boys who would steal beer from their dad's fridge and make Robbe play Fifa with them. They'd be too awkward to talk, too macho and everything that Robbe wasn't. No one else was even an option worth considering. All of the other numbers were classmates he only spoke to in order to bum answers to overdue homework. But then, Robbe reached the very bottom of his call. Eye's landing on a singular name, that was achingly familiar. One he hadn't bothered texting in more than a few months. Something in his brain seemed to click. 

Sander picked up after a few anxious seconds. The sound of his voice, whispering a cautious 'Hey?', made Robbe start crying - flooded with a wave of relief. He'd actually picked up. It was like the reminder of Sander's existence made Robbe feel better, because even if his world was going to shit, he would still be there. Everything before that moment was null. 

"Robbe? What's going on? Calm down-" Sander sounded more worried and confused than scared, as Robbe sniffled down the line, leaning against some randomer's garden wall more than a few streets from his home. It took him a minute to gain the composure to talk, as Sander waited- achingly patient and soothing. There was no hint of awkwardness. For a minute it was almost like they hadn't been giving each other radio silence for months on end. 

"Sorry, sorry-" Robe breathed out a string of unnecessary apologies, only to be met with muttered reassurance, suddenly not knowing what words to actually say. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, stiff and uncooperative, a suffocating burden. So, Robbe just told Sander how it was, ever so blunt "My dad left my fucking mum."

"Where are you?" Sander asked after a beat, Robbe could hear him moving over the phone, like he was getting up from wherever he was sitting. 

"Did you not hear what I said?" His voice cracked again, foot tapping a haphazard rhythm on the pavement. Robbe wiped his nose on the back of his jacket's sleeve.

"Yeah....Where are you? I'll come and meet you. We can go somewhere." Sander sounded serious, his voice low and quiet. Robbe had never heard him sound like that before, and for some reason it pushed away the anxiety that clouded the edges of Robbe's vision. It made him feel real, less fuzzy, more focused. It made him think clearer, as he tried to figure out where he was. 

He realised after a minute of looking for a street sign, stammering the name down the phone. Sander gave an affirming hum as Robbe described the house he was stood outside of, not interrupting as he paused or struggled to form his words. The conversation almost didn't seem real. This morning, Robbe had been sat in maths class overthinking the smile Sander had given him as they'd passed one another on the way to school- to the point where he convinced himself that Sander found his existence annoying. Now they were planning a shitty rendezvous like nothing had ever happened between them. The day had turned into a nightmare gone hallucination.

And then when Sander actually showed up, in his stupidly big leather jacket with his mop of hair on that rusty bike that he'd had since he was twelve. Robbe tried not to think that, now, the day had morphed into a dream.

\--

It had been twenty minutes and Sander hadn't said a word about Robbe's parents yet. They'd only exchanged a few words when he'd first pulled up, mostly a barrage of 'are you okay?''s and 'don't cry's' until Robbe had calmed down enough to breathe normally again. That was before the older boy cocked his head and mumbled 'come on', whilst he mounted his bike and took off down the road. Robbe followed blindly of course, too numb and tired and curious to protest or question. The only sound between them since was the metallic clank of whatever was in Sander's green shoulder bag. Even then, Robbe had only picked up on that noise as they'd rode away from the high-street, into a tangle of cul-de-sacs and housing estates. 

"Where are we going?" He finally asked, speeding up so he could ride alongside Sander, sick to death of staring at the back of his head. To Robbe's surprise, Sander smiled at him despite the lingering silence, quirking his eyebrows as he pedalled. 

"It's a surprise" Of course it was. Sander hadn't changed, still scarily spontaneous and desperately trying to maintain the 'mysterious edgelord' facade he'd began to put on just before he disappeared. The same facade that made him do stupid shit like shop lift and smoke with older kids that he didn't even know. Robbe still rolled his tired eyes though, cracking a smile for the first time in (what felt like) hours. As they had rode in silence, Robbe had had time to process what the fuck had just happened, to accept the events that led him to partake in a mystery bike ride with Sander Driesen. It didn't take him long, admittedly. Because Robbe had been waiting for his mum to sit him down like that ever since he'd seen a fleet of texts on his dads phone from a woman who definitely wasn't just a 'work friend'. It didn't make it hurt less though, even with the ample time to emotionally prepare, the idea of Robbe being left with his mother through all the ups and all the down scared him shitless. Though, he decided to not to dwell. Not that night. It was best for him to try and forget about the past hour. Because, Sander was with him for the first time in month. Speaking to him. Smiling at him. It didn't solve Robbe's issues, but he was a welcomed distraction. 

Robbe shook his head in mock annoyance, as Sander pedalled faster down the street, hair flashing from brown to yellow under the streetlights. The sun had set fast, leaving the horizon to morph into a sweeping gradient of blue and orange, and in those moments (filled with hesitant grins and shy, but ultimately reassuring, glances) Robbe lost himself.

Eventually, Sander slowed to a stop, pulling into an unlit ginnel between two houses. He hopped off his bike, prompting Robbe to do the same, and walked it down the thin opening like nothing was afoot. Robbe had no idea where they were. Nervous excitement lined his stomach, drowning out a fear of the unknown. The estate they'd rode into was new to him, a neighbourhood of pristine houses with neat lawns and neater families. However, this passage was entirely different, Robbe realised, as it widened to reveal a spacious gap between the gardens of three or four houses. Morphing into, what could only be described as, a makeshift playground. It was a state, to say the least. The archaic play equipment- an array of slides and climbing frames- was vandalised beyond recognition and (to Robbe's uneasy eye) seemed fairly unsafe. But, nonetheless, there was something scarily timeless about it. The splashes of graffiti were organised, a combination of elaborate tags and stupid, obviously context-bound, doodles, covering everything from the knee high walls enclosing the small park to the entirety of a see-saw. Robbe couldn't help but admire the artwork, as Sander dropped his bike to rest on the cracked tarmac, heading for the stagnant swing-set. 

The chain of the swing groaned as Sander plopped himself onto the seat, the metal tinkling whilst he idly rocked back and forth. He dropped his bag too, peeling it from his shoulder, and resting against the swing's framing. It took Robbe a long second to place his bike down, deciding to awkwardly rest it against the stiff round-a-bout.

"How did you even find this place?" Robbe mused, scoffing as he gingerly sat in the swing seat left swaying next to Sander, trying not to act like he was scared it would give out under his weight. The other boy shrugged nonchalantly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket, a small, proud, smile upon his lips.

"I was bored one night and just decided to be nosy. I've had a lot of time to explore since I got back'' Got back. Even then, it stung to be reminded that Sander had left in the first place. Although, to Robbe, it was even more painful to remember that he'd gone without a word to the person he'd called a best friend. Robbe must've showed his discomfort, through the way his lips pressed into a thin line whilst his head ducked to stare at his shoes, because Sander lowered his voice- saying the words that Robbe hadn't expected him to say with such ease "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It was a completely last minute thing. That I was leaving for the summer. It was such a shitty thing to do..."

"It's okay, I get it" Robbe lied, trying to feign indifference, pushing the toe of his sneaker into the tarmac. In reality, Robbe wasn't just hurt at the fact that Sander had ditched town without a word. He'd been ignored the entire time too. No responses to his text messages, not a word of response to him comments on Instagram. Jens was right when he'd called Sander's behaviour fucking weird.

"It not okay though, is it?" Sander murmured, like it was something Robbe wasn't supposed to hear, tinged with exasperation. He looked ashamed, self-loathing creeping into his features with the slight shake of his head. Suddenly, Sander began digging through his jackets pockets, finally pulling out a battered packet of cigarettes. Probably stolen. He lit one without a word, ducking his head into the amber glow, and Robbe's stomach twisted at how much he enjoyed the sight. The sight of the boy he'd known since before he could remember doing something as adult as smoking made Robbe realise just how much times had changed. Sander's idea of being rebellious before he'd severed all contact with anything that reeked of 'home', was staying up past midnight. Now, he'd probably snuck out of his house to smoke cigarettes miles from home in a park that could be used as a crack den. Taking a drag and breathing out the smoke, Sander scrunched up his nose, before flicking ash onto the tarmac. Robbe only watched in guilty admiration, finding the quiet squeak of the swing set oddly calming. Sander spoke again after breathing out a second cloud of smoke, eyebrows furrowed "Aren't you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?" Robbe knew the answer, he just didn't want to embarrass himself. So, he played dumb.

"Why I went." Robbe faked his surprise at Sander's bluntness, raising an eyebrow before he dove into denial- murmuring some soppy shit about how it was 'up to him' and how he 'didn't owe him anything'. But, even after the long break in contact, Sander could read Robbe like a book meant for elementary school kids. Like it was nothing. So, the soft start of a grin on his face, Sander reassured "I don't mind telling you, Robbe." 

Robbe paused, he looked at him then, just to make sure Sander wasn't setting up a trap for his ridicule. Only to be met by soft and genuine eyes. His voice was gravelly, as he began the conversation he'd been rehearsing in his head for months "Why did you leave then?" 

"Because Ross was" Sander quipped, like the conversation was scripted, pausing to take another drag. 

Robbe had almost forgotten about Ross Driesen's existence, and upon his reminder, a lot of things started to make sense. Sander's older brother was a handful, to say the least. He was the type of guy media executives would make TV shows about. The lead singer of a crooning indie band who played late night gigs in damp basements and did suspicious things among a circle of even more suspicious people. A guy who abused hair dye and walked around like the dictionary definition of a cliche. To Robbe, a fourteen year old who watched Skins a little bit too early, Ross Driesen was one of the coolest people alive.On top of that, he was one of the kindest people Robbe had ever met, so open and caring- even to his little brother's best friend. And clearly, Sander thought the same. However in the eye's of their dad, Sander had explained to Robbe one day about a year ago, his oldest son was a burden that wasn't willing to work for shit. Though, Sander's dad was the unemployed one. 

Sander's dad would say a lot of petty, hypocritical, shit like that. When Robbe used to eat at their house, Mr. Driesen would order him to sit up straight whilst hunched over his own meal. An asshole, completely. Like an authoritarian on the back burner, he insulted those slipping out of his control in hope's of making them stay, whilst not applying the rules he'd set for others to himself. Ross hated him, and because Ross hated him, Sander did too. Mrs. Driesen prenteded like she didn't notice the feud between the two sides of her family, playing PTA mum and posting her Facebook minion memes. It was a dire situation. 

"Was it your dad?" Robbe asked, watching as Sander flicked his cigarette onto the ground, obviously growing tired of it after a couple of minutes, the cherry died as it met damp grit. He chewed slightly at his lip before nodding, leg pushing his body back and forth on the swing at a quicker pace.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not like they ever really got along..." He trailed off, like he was considering what to tell Robbe next. Sander's expression soured as he continued "Ross just got sick of him, and the drinking and his nagging. He'd been saving up for a while and then his friend offered him a room for like, half of the price it was supposed to be rented out for. So, you know, it just made sense for him to leave" Robbe watched his as Sander sighed, mentally a mile away, like he was remembering stuff he'd rather not. It hurt to see him like that, the tough facade cracking under the weight of recollection, so Robbe reached out- putting a careful hand on his shoulder and giving an awkward pat. Voice croaky, Sander added "And, I wasn't gonna go with him at first. Mostly, and I'm not just saying this because you're here, because of you. But then my dad found some, uh, stuff on my phone and the argument got out of hand, you know?"

"What kind of stuff?" Robbe pushed slightly, scrunching up his nose, not understanding what could be so bad. Sander just gave a dismissive shake of his head. Something about that implication made Robbe nervous. There was another drawn out silence, slightly solemn and worrisome, before the story continued.

"We left the night it happened and...Robbe, I felt so bad for just getting out of there without a goodbye. I couldn't bring myself to talk to you, in case you wouldn't forgive me for leaving. It's so fucking stupid, I know, but I was so scared. And then I came back for school, because Ross couldn't afford to keep both of us afloat, and...and I still ignored you. I shouldn't have done that, but you looked so happy with your friends-"

"It's okay, Sander." Robbe interjected as the other spiralled.

"But it fucking isn't though, you keep saying that" Sander huffed, voice raised loud enough that Robbe feared he would wake those sleeping in the surrounding houses. He swallowed roughly, wiping a hand down his face in frustration. Robbe could see how his eye's were glistening, wet, under the amber glow of the streetlights "Shit hasn't been easy for you either, right? It's not like I'm the only one with problems. I'm sat here, spinning you this sob story, when you just found out your fucking parents are getting a divorce like an hour ago? It's not okay."

Robbe couldn't help let out a small laugh at Sander's melodrama. Summoning gentle laughter to withhold from crying at the sheer loveliness of the boy sat on the adjacent swing. Because even if Sander was going through the hardest, most decrepit time of his life, he'd still try his best to act the hero, by blaming himself for not being able to take care of those he loved. He'd scrutinise the shit out of himself, a mess of self-loathing, in hopes of making others feel heard. Some things never really did change. Robbe realised then, looking into his wide and remorseful eyes, that him and Sander had never stopped being friends. If they had, Sander would've hung up the phone when Robbe called crying. He wouldn't have whisked him away to a secret hideaway across town (on a school night), before profusely apologising, refusing to accept an ounce of Robbe's forgiveness. 

However, Sander was stubborn. What he wanted was for Robbe to push him away, display the anger he harboured towards himself. But Robbe could never do that. He dropped his arm from Sander's back and slowly stood up from the swing, feeling the other boys gaze on his profile as he made a show of looking around the small shit-hole of a playground. The only way to move on from woe with Sander was distraction. Always distraction. Over time, Robbe had perfected guiding his attention away from the stuff he shouldn't linger on, albeit he might've grown a little rusty. Before, it was 'let's go play Fifa' or 'I found this weird website' but Robbe felt shitty cat videos wouldn't do the job this time. 

So, he settled on "What's in the bag then?" Nodding at the green canvas leaning against the rusted frame of the swing set. 

"Seriously, you're just gonna brush past this?" Sander scoffed in disbelief, looking at Robbe with a face that screamed 'you're either stupid or brain-dead' "We aren't even gonna talk about your parents?"

"That would beat the purpose of calling up a distraction, right?" Robbe smiled, turning around from admiring one of the more elaborate tags on the flat back of a climbing frame. It was blue, fading into pink, something in French making a joke about love. 

"So, I'm a distraction then?" Sander teased, smirking slyly- making Robbe's stomach dissolve into an army of butterflies. Of course, he ignored them. He only nodded dumbly, before Sander huffed and got up too, leaning down to open his bag "Unbelievable, Ijzerman's" 

Robbe peered over Sanders shoulder, watching whilst he began pulling out battered cans of spray paint. The kind with peeling labels and top's that looked like they were about to fall off. Every single one was clearly very well used. And then it clicked. 

"You did all of this? The art?" Sander had always been artistically inclined, but never to the extent of this. The pure intricacy of ever single piece covering the playground looked like something a licensed professional would come up with. Not a fifteen year old with too much spare time. But there was something so Sander about every tag, that just screamed it was all his. It suddenly made a lot of sense why he'd taken Robbe there. 

"Yeah, of course. It's good practice" He mumbled, trying to hide his shyness at Robbe's stunned tone "No one ever checks here and the people in the houses like it so...I just come here when I need to get out" Sander hummed, standing up properly from his hunched position, nonchalantly passing Robbe a can. It was blue and felt nearly empty, and in all honestly Robbe had no clue what to do with it as Sander looked at him expectantly "What?"

"Well...I don't know what I'm doing, first of all"

"Seriously? You've never done this before?" Sander looked at him incredulously, incredibly sceptical all of a sudden. He bent down to pick up his own can of paint, a disturbingly bright yellow, weighing it in hands before reconsidering and swapping it for a mottled pink "Well...I thought with your 'skater boy' friends-" Robbe laughed and smacked him on the arm as Sander threw up a sloppy air quote "-That you wouldn't be new to tagging"

"You judged wrong, Driesen" Robbe grinned, cocking his head at the other boy, just as Sander wandered idly over to one of the higher walls enclosing the park. It was barer than the others, less crowded, coming up to about Robbe's middle, only dotted with a few runny outlines of smiley faces- one neon green and the other coal black. Sander ran a finger down the concrete, testing to see if it was wet from the day's previous rain fall, absentmindedly shaking the can in his hand. Pausing for thought, he crouched down to get a better angle, before spraying the brickwork. The nozzle hissed, too loud for Robbe's slight anxiety, whilst Sander buried his face into the crook of his elbow- mouth hiding from the paint's fumes under leather. His brow furrowed in concentration, like he was working on the magnum opus of his artistic career, free forearm resting idly on his knees to make the paint flow smoother. Robbe would've believed Sander was being serious, creating something beautiful, until a silly, childlike caricature of Robbe's face emerged on the wall after a minute or so of unrelenting spray. Verging on the edge of insulting, it showed his face with a shit-eating grin under a mop of pink curls. It was bad, crude and janky, but Robbe thought everything Sander did was amazing "That's so fucking cool"

"I bet it's like looking into a mirror, huh?" Sander laughed, stepping back and making a show of admiring his work, stroking an imaginary beard. The wet paint glimmered under the glow of the nearby streetlight, dripping into the pores of the brick. Robbe snorted.

"I don't look like that, you dick"

"Yeah, you do. I swear to god that looks EXACTLY like one of your school pictures" Sander folded his arms across his chest, sticking his chin up defiantly. Suddenly, the walking embodiment of smugness. And just like that, they fell back into a routine. Welcoming the barrage of banter and insults, the ones blanketed under laughter and boyish play. Spraying a messy flower onto the brickwork, next to his own head, Robbe realised how much he had missed Sander. It was overwhelming. He'd missed his teasing and those stupid jokes (the ones that made Robbe's ribs hurt). He'd missed the way he'd make a fool of himself just to see Robbe smile. In all honesty, Robbe didn't know how he'd coped without Sander being there, without his glowing personality and care. Even then, watching his cartoon face melt on the wall, Robbe wondered how he'd gone for months without hearing Sander's laugh. Just the sight of him throwing his head back and cackling like he'd just said the funniest thing in existence, made Robbe cheeks warm up. And for once he didn't feel shameful about it. Sander made him feel okay. Like the loud static of a broken TV set, he muffled all the issues of those surrounding him. He shouted over the elephants in the room, leg's crossed and waiting to be addressed, with stupid jokes and a alarmingly bright smile. Even if his effect was temporary, Robbe doubted he could ever go without it again. For he was as bright as the paint he sprayed on the wall, an attack of neon against Robbe's muted tone, the perfect combination of opposites. A blinding distraction. 

Sander shook the can again, the pea rattling inside, before leaning down to add something else to their masterpiece. His low chuckle was masked by two short aerosol bursts. Robbe's view was blocked by Sander's broad shoulders, still drowning in leather, until he straightened up.

"I missed out your dimple" Sander said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

Robbe only grinned bashfully. Staring the the side of Sander's face. Wishing he'd stare back with the same amount of admiration, with the same knot of pleasant nerves in his stomach. That night, although born out of pain, was one of the best Robbe ever had.


End file.
